


Can't Take the Sky from Me

by Schwep



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2997893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwep/pseuds/Schwep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She cut ties; now Taylor owns the skies as Brockton Bay's newest independent hero. Taylor Hebert with Genesis' powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Free 1.1  
  
I flew on the wings of an eagle. Or maybe a falcon. I had wings, that’s all I’m saying. The day was beautiful. Crisp air and a baby blue sky. Still too cold for thermals, I heard those were a blast and was looking forward to Spring to try them out. The cold also forced the thugs and drug dealers to bundle up, making it difficult for me to spot them without their tats.  
  
Still, I made do, found one a couple days ago dealing white powder and I’d been following him ever since. Two thousand feet in the air, just doing lazy circles, hunting down creeps. It’s a nice life. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
  
Tough Guy Johnny (don’t know his real name, don’t really care) wasn’t high up on the food chain. He just went out, peddled his disgusting wares, ate lunch at a fast food restaurant, peddled, and went home to masturbate... I fucking hate skylights.  
  
On the third day he finally broke pattern. Abandoned warehouse down by the dock (doesn’t really narrow it down much, does it?), he parked around the rear and went in. The windows were all boarded or blacked up and there were no identifying marks on the building. Suspicious.  
  
I landed and let myself disintegrate. The world disappeared for a moment, my vision went black, a couple of beeps and a slight hum. ‘Hate it, hate it, hate it.’  
  
I reformed as my Ophillopholant, so-called because of the big, drapey ears. I like it, so, you know, shut up.  
  
Took me a moment to catch my bearings, the sun just felt so good. It seeped into my skin’s cracks and filled me up. But I had a job, had to concentrate on the job. Could sunbather later. There were only eleven cars parked around back, but it sounded like at least thirty people inside. And a lot of whining. Barking? Dogs.  
  
The Empire also ran dog fighting rings. I could follow Tough Guy Johnny more and come back later for the dog fighting ring, but there was no telling if the ring would move in that time. Also, what if Tough Guy Johnny picked up his drugs at the ring? I would just waste a few days following him then. No, better to hit the ring now.  
  
Authorities were out. The BBPD wouldn’t act, this was the Empire so there was too high a chance of a cape being on premises. The Protectorate was also out. The chances of a cape being here was too low for it to be in their jurisdiction. Ideally the cops would call in the Protectorate, but the relationship between the BBPD and Protectorate ENE was infamous for its animosity.  
  
Ridiculous.  
  
It was a bit too big to hit solo though. Über and Leet avoided antagonizing the Empire, not that I could blame them. Playing in the little leagues was enough to boost their popularity and video ratings. No need for them to risk life and limb.  
  
That left New Wave. Good old New Wave, always ready to scrap with the Empire. But that required me to call them and that required me to fly back to my phone and that required me to Change.  
  
From super hearing to super sight (or vice versa) is always an interesting experience. Loss is always noticed before gain. The world is muted and then the world brightens as details jump into focus. That car over there has an expired registration. That tree has a squirrel in it, and then I try to listen to the squirrel and, of course, I can’t.  
  
According to Crystal—sorry, Laserdream—I have become a local celebrity amongst the local bird watchers. They know I’m a cape, but every time I go Sauron (the all-seeing eye ready to rain firey death down upon my enemies. Seriously though, fire breath takes up way too much space to force into a bird’s body, but I’m working on it) it’s slightly different. There are entire threads on PHO arguing about what birds influenced me on what days. I couldn’t really say. Should really check it out though, might pick up some useful tricks.  
  
Since the bird lovers kept a constant watch out for my beautiful plumage, I had taken to hiding my phone and spare batteries on top of roofs; it minimized the number of times I had to return to base. I changed the roof daily; today it was on top of the abandoned strip mall, tucked into a corner and placed in multiple ziploc bags.  
  
I Changed again. Needed fingers to operate a phone after all. Best form with fingers I had managed so far was a monkey looking thing, except I added on an extra set of arms and a digestive system that turned wood pulp into glue. Still had to eat the wood pulp and wait around for an hour so it wasn’t as useful as I thought it would be, but Spider-Monkey is still awesome.  
  
Phone booted up. Checked messages. No new messages. Texted New Wave: ‘Dog fight, E88, yes/no’. Waited.  
  
New PM on PHO from PRT. Ignored. ‘Not going back. Not ever.’  
  
Ten minutes and finally a reply from New Wave. I gave directions and told them what roof to land on. Gathered the phone and batteries and Changed again. Nice thing about stake outs is that there’s no Changing. I just get to float around watching the little people.  
  
The phone and batteries came with me. I only had maybe two days worth of juice remaining and Crystal always did an impeccable job of charging the batteries for me. And now I got to wait on a different rooftop.  
  
New Wave all had lives and jobs besides the most noble pursuit of liberty and justice for the common man in this ever darkening world. They tended to rally in a safe different spot and then fly down as a group. Safe, but slow.  
  
Today it was the Pelhams and Glory Girl with Panacea tagging along. I loved it when Panacea tagged along. Meant I wouldn’t have to be so gentle.  
  
“Gryphon,” Lady Photon greets me. She let Manpower down from the under-the-armpit carry she had. His costume actually had thicker padding for his armpits for just that maneuver. Sucks to be a guy. See, if he were a girl he could just be carried bridal style, like Glory Girl and Panacea had going, but instead he had to dangle.  
  
I nod. Standard courtesy is to never wave at Blasters, tends to make them flinch. I’d Changed yet again into Spider-Monkey, needed those fingers. Gesturing at the abandoned warehouse I tapped out, ‘30 min plus dogs’.  
  
“Any villains?”  
  
‘Dunno only heard’.  
  
“Right. Shock and awe. I’ll phone the PRT, when they’re ten minutes out Glory Girl will break down the door. Gryphon, you’ll follow. Make it big and scary. Shielder, you’ll throw up protection for me and Laserdream, and Manpower will guard the rear.”  
  
It’s a typical plan. We’ve done it a couple times before. Unstated is that Panacea will remain here until the fighting is finished at which point she’ll take care of any boo-boos the Nazis might have.  
  
We wait. Again. Shielder started playing some game on his phone while Lady Photon and Manpower had a conversation on one side and Glory Girl and Panacea claimed the other. Laserdream chose to sit by me.  
  
“Still can’t do vocal cords?” asked Laserdream.  
  
I shook my head. Practice made perfect, eventually I’d be able to talk again.  
  
“You could always have Panacea-”  
  
I vehemently shook my head. Panacea could never touch me. If she touched me then she might know, and then I might have to go back. And I was never going back.  
  
“Fine. Fine. Just don’t see why not is all.” But she let the matter drop.  
  
Glory Girl and Panacea finished their little discussion over on the side and walked over to Laserdream and me. “Gallant was asking about you,” Glory Girl started, blunt as always. Not that it was a bad thing, I liked knowing where I stood with people.  
  
I motioned for her to go on.  
  
“He wanted to know if you ever had memory loss,” she continued.  
  
I shook my head, bemused.  
  
“Yeah, didn’t think so. A lot of parahumans without a normal looking form-” I winced, but she didn’t notice, either I couldn’t do facial expressions in this form or she was just oblivious. I’d have to get a mirror and find out. “-have no memories. He was just wondering. So you do remember who you are?”  
  
I just stared at her until Laserdream bopped her on top of the head. “Don’t pry, Vicky.”  
  
“Sorry. Sorry. None of my business. Hey, have you ever thought about Panacea-”  
  
Laserdream bopped her again. “She already said no.”  
  
‘Not that I’m not grateful, Crystal, but you bring it up every time we meet too…’  
  
The conversation changed to fashions, which I never wore; movies, which I hadn’t seen; and boyfriends, at least Panacea was left out of that conversation too. Being a hero was not as exciting as I expected it to be. Finally Lady Photon gave the go ahead.  
  
I went big. As big as I could manage. Six feet tall, ten feet long, three fire-breathing heads. Cerberus. I liked the thought, dog fighting ring meet dog fighting ring fighting dog.  
  
Glory Girl swooped in shoulder first, smashing into the door. The door was blown off its hinges and she reached down and heaved one up to use as a combination shield and bludgeon. The room was stunned, everyone falling down to a crouch simultaneously.  
  
That’s where I came in. Theoretically the best fights are where the perps are too scared to fight back.  
  
I roared. Still haven’t gotten the hang of fine tuning the vocal cords, so I didn’t even bother. I wanted deep and loud, I got deep and loud. Pants shitting, terrifying loud. The gouts of fire helped.  
  
“Place your hands on your head and surrender,” Glory Girl yelled in the subsequent silence. “You are outmatched. Surrender now and no one has to be hurt.”  
  
Glory Girl wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t want that. An easy win was pointless and boring. I agreed, after three days of following Tough Guy Johnny—oh, there he is, hi there, Tough Guy Johnny—I wanted to break some faces.  
  
Fortunately they didn’t disappoint. There was a sound like nails on chalkboard. I turned my left most head. No make that the sound of a thousand metal blades rubbing against each other: Hookwolf.  
  
The Dallons might have been able to keep him restrained, or perhaps Glory Girl could wrassle the little critter or perhaps… Hookwolf had a bounty of ten grand on his head. That would be a nice way to end the day. Definitely worth Changing for.  
  
A moment of blackness. Beep. “Unusually acti-”  
  
‘Fucking hate that.’  
  
I reformed almost instantly, sacrificing almost every advantage I had. Almost no speed, poor senses, no teeth, claws, or even fire breath. ‘Beware my wrath for I am the cube, the gelatinous cube.’  
  
I’d have to thank Leet for this later, if it worked. And then I’d have to redesign it to include a skeleton and musculature system.  
  
I advanced. The surface of the cube was light sensitive so I had 360 degree vision. I just couldn’t focus, so I could barely make out human shaped blobs. Reminded me of the time my glasses broke. Not a fun day. Of course it could have been worse, as-  
  
‘Not going there. I’m here now. I’m never going back. Never going back.’  
  
I was shot… maybe, it tickled and made my sides quiver and shake. There was a lot of loud noises—booms mainly, those would have been the gunshots—but I couldn’t understand any of them. This really wasn’t a good idea. Mostly blind, almost deaf, and I had no mouth so I could scream.  
  
Hookwolf was shiny though. I could pick him out. Big, shiny, dog shaped blur. I attacked as quickly as I could which involved scrunching and unscrunching my bottom. I had this,he was trapped by a cement wall to his back.  
  
‘Nowhere to run, now let me give you a hug,’ I mentally trilled.  
  
Something poked me in my midsection. Hookwolf had extended a blade into me. I tightened my folds around it and secreted a bit of myself onto him… okay, that sounded nasty. I held him inside… fuck no. I immobilized him using my form’s special ability. Three more blades thrust forward. And I repeated the process. He tried to retract the blades, but I held on and it only pulled me toward him.  
  
As soon as I reached him I could encompass him. Knock him out from lack of air. We had Panacea and she could, wait a minute, suffocation affects the brain first and Panacea couldn’t do brains. I really didn’t think this out. Lady Photon was so going to chew me out later.  
  
Hookwolf tried extending his blades again to push me back. I simply let them penetrate farther into me. He started running side to side, attempting to loosen the blades. Every time the blades seemed to have any give I just covered them in more adhesive.  
  
I didn’t feel any more tickling so New Wave must have dealt with the rest of the Empire. I couldn’t check though. Seriously, what was I thinking trying out an untested form in the middle of a battle?  
  
Hookwolf extended more blades to his side and then swung them into me, trying to hack me apart. That did quite a bit more damage. If this body could feel pain it would probably be in agony right now. Too bad for Hookwolf that it couldn’t. I captured each blade as it cut into me, holding them fast. Hookwolf simply created more. There were too many blades biting into me to continue advancing. Each blade had to be held and the accumulated damage was making me lose the ability for fine control.  
  
Just how many blades could Hookwolf make? I held over fifty of them and he kept creating more. I’d have to abandon this form soon. I could already feel it stiffening, my connection fading. I didn’t want to die here like this. They couldn’t know.  
  
A white blur fell down and I felt Hookwolf’s blades cut through me towards the floor. Hookwolf skittered back a few steps, free, and swiped at the white blur. Glory Girl. She broke his blades for me. I could kiss her.  
  
I Changed again. Just a few beeps and the hum. The blades embedded in the Cube fell to my feet as I went back to Cerberus.  
  
The fight was over. The the mooks were ziptied and either groaning in pain or cussing us out. Hookwolf was pacing behind Shielder and Laserdream’s forcefields, pinning him to the wall.  
  
“Back with us, Gryphon?” asked Lady Photon.  
  
I nodded one head, keeping the other two focused on Hookwolf. Physically I couldn’t match him, but perhaps my fire breath could injure him.  
  
“We’ll talk about that later. The PRT was diverted, the Empire will send reinforcements before they get here.”  
  
I breathed a small flame at Hookwolf in protest. Ten grand gone! Ten goddamn grand!  
  
“There’ll be another day. The bookie had seventeen hundred on him and there were fifteen fire arms.”  
  
I did the math. 1700 plus 1500 hundred split five ways minus taxes and fees came out to about 300. Not too bad for three days work. Still, I’d miss that jackpot.  
  
“Manpower will be done in a few more minutes, then we’ll pull back.” He was going around the room bagging and labeling the firearms, taking a picture of the guns’ respective owners for the police. Standard stuff. Would have dug out their IDs too, but we were on a time limit.  
  
Goods confiscated and receipts handed out, we left Laserdream and Shielder in the warehouse. Glory Girl immediately moved to evac Panacea while Lady Photon grabbed Manpower who held on to the cash and goods. Finally Laserdream and Shielder flew out holding a shield between them and Hookwolf. They needn’t have bothered; Hookwolf didn’t attack, he simply started cutting his subordinates loose. Bastard.  
  
I Changed into my bird self and grabbed my phone off the roof while New Wave flew off to the PRT to turn in the evidence and money. I’d receive my cut in a month or two when it cleared the courts, unless the Empire successfully argued against the civil forfeiture. Like they’d even try, let alone succeed.  
  
I’d probably go after the Merchants next. They had the sloppiest security and I’d last hit them almost two weeks ago, so they’d have relaxed again by now.  
  
But right now there was a crisp, clear sky to enjoy. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Free 1.2

The Pelhams scheduled the after-action meeting for later that night. It was made clear the first time I worked with New Wave that future cooperation was contingent on my presence at all the meetings.

The meetings were held in Sanford's, a restaurant directly across from the PRT headquarters. I approved of the level of paranoia, even if I disliked dodging annoyingly chirpy Wards and patronizing Protectorates.

I stashed my phone at the base, a cargo container in the middle of the boat graveyard. There was a roost in the corner to sleep on, a small amount of cash, my phone, and a map pinned to the wall. I’d stick a pin in today’s bust later when I had fingers. They always did stuff like that in cop shows and, while I wasn’t sure what the benefit was, it made a pretty picture and made me feel better.

I didn’t need much. Belongings were chains, anyway, holding me down, keeping me in one place. Better this way. No responsibilities or expectations. I could leave tomorrow and no one would miss me. As it should be.

Should probably bring up my plan to hit the Merchants in the meeting. Probably some time next week. I’d have to find a member and trace him (or her, but it was almost always a him) back to a juicy enough target. I jumped the gun on Tough Guy Johnny, I’ll admit, but if PRT hadn’t dropped the ball it would have payed off.

And I didn’t want to watch that creep for another minute let alone another day.

Of course after the Cube they might say no... Could probably talk Über and Leet into hitting the Merchants. Failing that I could always go after street level crime. But the pay off was always minuscule though and once dealers started getting hit there’d be backup.

No worries. I’d manage.

Crystal waited for me on the roof of Sanford's.

First time here I had found the restaurant easily enough and changed into Spider-Monkey version 1.0 (lots of monkey, too much spider). Walked in, grinned and waved non-threateningly at the hostess… yeah, when you have two inch long incisors there is no way to grin non-threateningly. She screamed, the bus boy screamed, a couple of patrons screamed, New Wave ran out to do battle, and then I got foamed. Very embarrassing.

Sanford’s apologized. I apologized. The PRT apologized. I apologized. New Wave apologized. I apologized. Everyone apologized. And we never spoke of it again.

So I went down with Crystal, Changing while still outside. After that little incident I’d made an effort to make Spider-Monkey cute, so I’d shrunk the body, enlarged the head and eyes, thickened the fur, and minimized the teeth. I think I succeeded. There are a few plushies being sold on an online crafting site (unlicensed, but still cool. I’d get one but damp would probably rot it) and I had to watch out for small children hugging me.

The patrons turned and stared as we went past. It’s part of the restaurant’s appeal: ‘Eat here and you might see the heroes!’ In return the restaurant didn’t charge us for the private rooms.

The Pelhams and Glory Girl were already eating. At the first meeting I had to explain that while Spider-Monkey could eat, the sense of taste and smell were radically different. (Still working on it, but I don’t have a steady supply of food to calibrate with. It’s low priority.) I’d made sure to emphasize that since I didn’t need to eat there was no point in them holding to social niceties, it just made me feel awkward.

Ah, crap. Renick was in the corner talking to Lady Photon. Fiddlesticks. “Gryphon! Wonderful to see you. We’ve been trying to get into contact with you. Have you thought anymore about joining the Protectorate?”

I nodded and waved for the laptop New Wave brought for me. Shielder slid it over and I booted it up.

“And you’ve decided?” he asked before I’d finished setting up.

I tapped out, ‘I’m not joining.’ in Notepad and swung the screen around to face him.

I wanted to join when I first became a hero, but couldn’t. They’d find out and make me go back. But now I knew better. The Protectorate wasn’t useless, but they were shackled. Unable to act. I was better off alone.

“There are a large number of advantages to joining the Protectorate. Teammates, recognition, a salary…”

He rambled on. I waited a few seconds and tapped the screen where it read ‘I’m not joining.’

“Alright. Understandable of course.” He adjusted his glasses. “We have been thinking about a program to increase the coordination between the Protectorate and local heroes. A few training exercises, maybe take you along on a patrol?”

Translation: try to analyze how my powers work and then force me to sit through another sales pitch.

‘Thank you but no.’ A little too close to the line. The PRT handled all the arrests made by independent heroes. Seconds mattered, as today proved, and an upset PRT wouldn’t be willing to put forth the extra effort required. I needed to throw them a bone. ‘Maybe a patrol.’

“Capital. We’ll send you a list of possible times.”

‘That’d be perfect. Thanks.’

He grinned again, there was something green stuck in his teeth. “So how has life been treating you? Large number of arrests to your name. Very impressive.”

‘Good. Good weather for flying. Just keep getting lucky I guess.’

“That’s good. If you ever need anything the PRT would be happy to help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Renick,” Manpower called out from across the room. “But we’re about to start our meeting.”

“I understand. Have a pleasant evening.” He excused himself and stepped out.

The meeting started with the development of a time line. Figuring out the exact order of events in a fray was trickier than it sounded and it surprised me how much of the fight I missed. We then moved on to the specifics in the fight and what mistakes were made. Glory Girl broke some guy’s arm, we hadn’t accounted for the dogs so the two in the ring had attacked forcing Manpower to deal with them, and my use of the gelatinous cube.

‘I’m sorry. It was an error in judgment.’

“What was it anyway?” asked Manpower.

‘A gelatinous cube. From D&D. Leet designed it’

“Leet? You’re using something designed by Leet?” Crystal didn’t seem to know whether she should laugh or hit me.

‘Well… technically, no. A D&D forum argued about how a gelatinous cube would work a couple years ago. Leet edited it down and fine tuned it. He wants me to use it for the LARPing workshop tomorrow.’

“It’s intended for LARPing.” Lady Photon frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Then why would you use it for Hookwolf at all?”

‘It’s an effective anti-Brute form. It’s tough, grabs something, draws it in, and immobilizes. Not tested enough. Unexpected drawbacks. It was a mistake. Won’t happen again.’

“I think it was really useful,” Glory Girl spoke up. “I can see all kinds of uses. She goes Cube and then I throw mooks into her. And it did work really well against Hookwolf. I hate fighting that guy, can never get a good grip or land a straight blow. Pain in the ass.”

“That’s not the problem, Vicky. She acted against the plan without our knowledge or go-ahead.”

“And she’s sorry. She’s already said she made a mistake. Twice.”

“Victoria, we are not assigning blame. Honestly,” Lady Photon said, gesturing at me, “her occupying Hookwolf was probably the best possible outcome. But in a combat situation we need to know what our teammates are going to do. Otherwise it turns into a free for all and that’s how people are hurt.”

‘It won’t happen again.’ I promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She nodded and leaned forward. “Now, do you think you could find another Empire base?”

‘Nobody was arrested so I could probably still tail the guy. But I’d prefer to let the Empire’s awareness drop a few notches. Thought I’d go after the Merchants again.’

“You do seem to like hitting the Merchants,” Crystal commented.

‘Lousy opsec. They also tend to keep their loot in bigger stashes.’

“But the ABB have fewer capes,” Shielder pointed out.

‘And one of them is a teleporting suicide bomber.’

“What about Coil?” asked Lady Photon.

‘Tried. Can’t find any dealers. Most I’ve seen are some of his mercenaries but they evaded me. Just because they saw a bird a few thousand feet away. Way too jumpy.’

“Right, call us when you have something.” Lady Photon waved at the wall closest to the PRT headquarters. “The PRT wanted to apologize for diverting the pick-up team. The Protectorate engaged the Undersiders and our pick-up team was the closest to their location.”

Shielder snorted. “Let me guess, they got away?”

The Undersiders were small time crooks. The effort to reward ratio was too low for me (they were really good at running), but their continued success drove Armsmaster up the wall.

“Of course. Probably one reason they’re trying to recruit Gryphon so much,” she replied. I perked up. “They only have two fliers, both Wards, neither have your enhanced senses.”

So if I brought them the Undersiders they would leave me alone? Or would they try all the harder? Not worth the effort.

I left in a good mood. New Wave would still work with me. But I did have to go on a patrol with the Protectorate sometime. Hopefully it wouldn’t be with Armsmaster or Battery, they were sticks in the mud, but the others could be fun.

I climbed onto the roof and Changed. Just a hum and a beep and I was back on the roof. I stretched the wings of a decidedly owly Sauron and headed for my base.

Still had to practice my new forms and then I could- ‘Oh, a mugging.’

I dove, wings held to my side, beak cutting the air. Mere feet above the ground my wings snapped out transferring my downward velocity to horizontal, hurtling me towards the muggers face. A swipe with my talons convinced him to flee.

I retained most of my speed. Enough to quickly gain altitude again. I circled the victim a few times—making sure he was safe and uninjured—then I lowered a wing banking away and returned to my base. Still had to practice my new forms and then I could sleep.

Most of my nightly practice was focused on relearning how to speak. I’d modeled my efforts on the parrot vocal cords, or lack of said cords. A syrinx didn’t need lips or a tongue or anything, so If I could get it working all of my forms could talk. Well, maybe not Cube, but most of my forms.

So I Changed into Spider-Monkey forming the syrinx under a transparent membrane, and then compared it to pictures and videos I pulled from the web. It was a bit like drawing a portrait with my feet and while being blindfolded every thirty seconds.

I did manage a chirp, so… progress!

Über and Leet were internet celebrities. They did a little bit of crime fighting on the side to help boost their reputation, but most of their income came from using Über’s leet skills and Leet’s uber tech to act out pop culture. Mostly video games but the occasional movie or TV show thrown in for variety.

I’d expressed interest and they quickly accepted. Cosmetics weren’t easy but with enough practice I could transform into almost any creature, as long as it wasn’t too big and still anatomically possible.

Today they’d hired out their services to a group of LARPers. Über would teach them how to fight with actual swords, Leet would provide safety gear, and I would provide the finale after they traversed a dungeon full of evil monsters.

Leet promised it would be good, clean fun and it paid well.

While Über trained the customers I hung out with Leet in the tents. He monitored everyone’s gear making sure no one was going to skewer themselves or their partner, and I surfed the internet. A chance to not use my phone was always appreciated.

A trip to PHO showed that the bird watchers were too damn good. They’d set up a map and recorded the date and time of all their sightings. I’d either have to be stealthier entering and exiting my base, or move it entirely. I left a request that they stop reporting my location in such detail and- should I? I didn’t want to upset anyone, but… I also forwarded the request to a mod.

Then I had to explain for the umpteenth time that I did not choose the name Gryphon (but it was still a good name) and that I would not turn into a griffin because the design was stupid. To create enough lift for a body the size of a lion the wings would have to be huge, and powering those wings needed giant chest muscles which interfered with the front legs and unbalanced the entire body.

I could maybe make it work with a kitten… would people pay for that? I could start an EntLift, get a couple hundred bucks, and make a few videos of me frolicking around as a winged kitty. But would that be too demeaning? Hard to imagine being taken seriously as a hero with a sideline in cute kitty videos.

“Miss? Excuse me?”

I turned around. Someone getting my gender right meant they knew who I was. Otherwise it was always sir—if they were being polite—or mister—if they were demanding something. She was short and athletic. Had to be a massive geek considering that she was here. I waved hello.

“I just wanted to say that I’m your biggest fan. Could I have your autograph?”

I blinked. I had fans? Since when? I’d only been doing this a month.

Leet chuckled and slid a piece of paper and pen over to me. I scrawled out ‘Gryphon’ and handed it to her.

I had fans. But what if I messed up? Or couldn’t maintain my current record? Would they still like me if they found out? I… I just wanted to be left alone.

But now she wanted a picture with me. I tried not to flinch when she wrapped an arm around me, gave a little grin even.

Leet and Über leased a warehouse for these events and some of their movies. They had it set up with cardboard with low lighting and a fog machine to hide that. Various robots and holograms moved about and Leet provided low grade tinkertech for loot to better enable the teams to get through the dungeon. Wand of Magic Missiles, Orb of Light, etc.

I waited in the dungeon. My job was to attack the players as a gelatinous cube. Frighten the pants off of them and run them off. If they did somehow find their way past me there was a treasure chest with a nifty flaming sword. Not sure how they could get past as I was as wide as the corridor and their pointy metal sticks couldn’t harm me.

They came around the corner saw me and saw me quivering towards them. Shrieking they ran away. Mission accomplished, I Changed into Cerberus and backed up, Leet was piping music over the PA. Something about a Sir Robin, catchy.

He remotely unlocked the wall behind me so I could take a shortcut to the end. I was the final boss.

The dungeon’s final confrontation was set in a big room with plenty of cover, chandeliers hanging by easily cut rope, and battle axes decorated the walls. I curled up in the middle and pretended to sleep. I had to give them a chance to sneak up and stab me.

It’s hard to sit still when you’re expecting to be stabbed. Sitting there, listening for footsteps—didn’t understand how anyone expected to be able to sneak up on three sets of doggie ears—I just concentrated on my breathing.

A high pitch whistle filled the chamber. Doggie whistle. Leet must have decided that they were insufficiently stealthy.

I leaped onto my feet, snarling and blowing low intensity flames all around the room. Über charged yelling a battlecry. The other players followed except for one, my fan (what was her name? Shit! I never asked. Needed to ask when we’re done. Or would it be too late now? Would it be awkward?). She circled the room heading for the conveniently placed chandelier ropes.

I met Über’s charge with a rushing tackle of my own. He slid under me sticking his sword up and trailing it down my body. Ouch, that stung. I roared, not entirely acting, and spun around to snap at him.

The players took that advantage and attacked my hindquarters. We had carefully explained that they didn’t have to hold back against me. Even held a demo fight before they entered the dungeon to make sure they understood that they didn’t have to worry about injuring me. In retrospect they learned a little too well.

One player went for my flank while the other two aimed for my rear achilles tendons. I heard them and shifted to better protect myself while blowing a tongue of flame towards Über. The players weren’t perfectly positioned so I couldn’t move too much or they’d risk striking each other. I received a nasty thrust into my midsection and a slice to my flank for my troubles.

My fan had reached the chandelier cord. I took a swipe at the player who had thrust into my midsection forcing him to jump back abandoning his sword. Turning I faced the other two players who were doing a good job of harrying my faces.

But I’d lost track of Über. He came from the side swinging his sword in a potentially blinding strike. I reared up and backed away… directly underneath the chandelier. It dropped and hit me with a resounding smash.

I heard the whistle again and lay still. The players had done enough damage and I was now ‘dead’. The actual amount of damage I’d received was minimal. I didn’t have to balance day to day considerations with sheer ferocity so I had no reproductive, digestive or immune systems, extra platelets for clotting, and a sharply reduced pain sense.

Only had to repeat that four more times and I’d be done for the day. Towards the end things were very excitable in that other place. It was better to let things cool, better not to Change for a little while. I’d have to skip my nightly practice today, too.

So I stayed to find out the fan’s name (Melanie) and ask about hitting a Merchant drug house. Working with Über and Leet was more profitable than working with New Wave. Any loot would be split three ways and I’d get a cut of the video profits. But they were picky on what they touched, public events like this workshop meant they had to avoid vendettas.

“You know where one is?” asked Leet.

‘No. Later as in next week sometime. Have to find one first.’

“Hmm, we’d of course be willing to work with you if one or two minor concessions were made,” Über teased.

‘Go on…’I typed while rotating one hand in a small circle.

“First, you’d have to go as Bowser-” Yes! “-and second, we’re planning on doing a horror video series and we want you to star.”

They’d been pushing Bowser since we’d first met. I’d made a big production of saying no, but come on, giant, fire-breathing, spiky turtle? I’d perfected it a week ago. Did you know that turtle’s spines are fused to their shell? Had to look up turtle anatomy after a few embarrassing mishaps.

‘Fine, I guess I could do Bowser. What do you mean ‘star’?’

“Some zombies, tentacle things, you know, things that go bump in the night. We’ve got a list worked out and you should be able to do them all,” said Leet.

‘Maybe. Would that send the wrong message?’

“Well, what message are you trying to send?” asked Über.

I didn’t know. ‘I don’t know.’

Maybe if I offset the horror with cute cats? Or would that just make me look schizophrenic? I had no clue, so I asked Über.

“Nah, you’re thinking’s wrong. A makeup artist can do horror one day and a kid’s show the next. That’s how you need to bill yourself. You can’t limit yourself as ‘the girl who transforms into cats’ or ‘the girl who transforms into monsters.’ Instead you need to bill yourself as a professional artist willing to create anything for their audience.”

It sounded mercenary. But mercenaries got paid, so I could live with that.


	3. Chapter 3

Free 1.3  
  
Sundays were reserved for practice. I had mostly completed the sarinx, enough to make sounds. Not intelligible sounds, but a wide variety nonetheless. Now it would be a simple matter of practice and refinement.  
  
And I let my entrepreneurial side out of its box for half an hour. Probably the lack of caffeine.

x x x

  
**♦Topic: Gryphon Makes a Movie  
In: Boards ► Heroes ► Independent**  
  
 **Gryphon** (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)  
Posted on February 13, 2011:  
  
Many of you know my view on the mythical griffin as an ill-conceived design that would be completely useless due to size. It would however be possible for me to make a smaller model. A much smaller model. Kitten small.  
  
That’s right. I’ve started a EntLift here and if it reaches the goal I will post an adorable video of griffin me. There are higher tiers for those wanting additional videos of the creatures of their choosing.  
  
Thanks for all your support.  
-Gryphon

x x x

  
So now I had to work on making a griffin. Simple, I’d do it the same way I made Cerberus: start with a real animal and build up. That I had to spend most of Sunday looking at cat videos on the internet was entirely accidental.  
  
Monday morning I started to track down the Merchants. I started a slow, lazy loop around the docks. Still too early for most people to be out. February mornings with a stiff breeze coming in off the ocean made everyone miserable.  
  
I could see the area slowly come to life. The shopkeepers show up first and started opening their shops. Then the day shift workers came in, stopping for coffee or baked goods. The night shifts were relieved and went home. Finally the nine-to-fivers arrived.  
  
The docks were my turf. I didn’t allow muggings or assaults during this time. It was all about consistency. Protect this area every weekday for these times and the citizens would eventually catch on. I didn’t have to declare it, but they knew. A lot of the tension had decreased, people weren’t looking over their shoulders as much.  
  
As I protected I searched. I wanted a low traffic operation, the asshole selling out of the back of their car or the bum selling out of his apartment. Harder to find but easier to track. Besides, if I got bored with tailing them I could always bust them. They had to keep their drugs and cash on hand so it was a guaranteed payday. That’s what happened with the last Merchant I tailed. Something I regretted now.  
  
Most drug sales were made in a high traffic thoroughfare operation. The addict would talk to a front man, the cashier. He, of course, didn’t have any drugs on him. The cashier would then signal the addict to go further down to the pharmacist.  
  
A runner regularly took the cashier’s money, and yet another runner supplied the pharmacist. The amount of cash and drugs on any one person at any one time were always kept at low levels.  
  
The high traffic operations were easier to spot from the air. The problem lay in following the runners. They moved through buildings or just stopped to chat with random people for half an hour at a time. The few times I managed to follow a runner back to a stash the trail went cold. There was no guarantee that a stash would be replenished. The two I'd found were allowed to run dry.  
  
Hitting the operation itself was an exercise in futility. The stations and stashes were kept far enough apart so I might be able to hit one, but the others would get away. The stashes themselves were broken up, a single stash didn't even have enough drugs for a single day.  
  
The payoff was too small to call in backup. Well, maybe Glory Girl; Brandish didn’t allow her girls to receive bounties.  
  
So I followed a semi-randomly pattern looking for suspicious cars while practicing my ABCs. With the physical structure approximated I just had to practice and refine. “Uhhh… Uh… Uh… Ah… A… A… A… Puh… Puh… Peh… Peh… Beh… B… B… B… A… B… Shuh…”  
  
Frustrating.  
  
My noon check on my phone showed that the PRT had sent a list of times available for patrols. I’d hoped, vainly, that they’d just drop the idea.  
  
I chose Thursday morning, it being the first date guaranteed to avoid the Wards.  
  
I didn’t find a suitable target Monday. The next day giant, mutated dogs interrupted my search. They had rammed into an armored car, knocking it over. Teenagers carrying sacks with money signs—nice touch—crawled out of the car and climbed onto the dogs, using bony spurs as handholds. That could not be comfortable. Even ignoring the spurs there were no saddles and dog backs were not designed to carry people, too bony.  
  
I banked and climbed, keeping them in sight.  
  
Cerberus was larger than any of Hellhound’s dogs, but not necessarily stronger. I could probably take on one dog, maybe two, but three would brutally take me down. Grue would be a non-factor; darkness generation wouldn’t impede Cerberus with her enhanced ears. I wasn’t sure what Tattletale or Regent could do.  
  
Against the four of them together I wouldn’t stand a chance if they chose to fight. Maybe if I separated Hellhound from the others, but that was gambling on Regent and Tattletale being weak. No, better to observe for now. The Undersiders were small fry, but any information on a group of supervillains could be profitable.  
  
Tattletale looked up briefly and then pointed at me. I felt a wing spasm. Again, harder. And again. Each spasm made me lose control, erratically dropping in height. I tried to stabilize, dropping lower and pulling way from the Undersiders but it was too late. Another spasm swung me sideways into a building. Unable to correct I went into free fall.  
  
The ground came up to meet me. I head, or felt, a crunch. The room hummed and I heard a beep. I didn’t move.  
  
Needed to get out. Needed to escape.  
  
I stayed still, listening. Counted out ten beeps. Nothing else. No one around.  
  
Still daytime. Too busy to sneak out. Didn’t want to wait. Needed to go. Needed to get out.  
  
Kitty formed under the bed. The first and finished half of Kitty-Griffin, she was the most inconspicuous form I had, a gray tabby kitten.  
  
I hopped out from under the bed and sauntered into the corridor. I was Cat. I was King. Of course I belonged here. Because I was Cat.  
  
“Well what do we have here?”  
  
I looked up at the man. White lab coat, doctor. I couldn’t meow, so I just gave his shoe a quick sniff before stepping away.  
  
“Oh no you don’t.” He reached under my chest and picked me up one-handed. Scratching me behind the ear he murmured, “No pets in the hospital." He tapped me on the nose. "Is that such a difficult rule? Come on. Let’s get you out of here before someone has a sneezing fit.”  
  
 _‘This is what you wanted so just- he’s holding me. Can’t get away. Let go, let go, let go- Shut up! It’s fine. It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. Come on, you’re Gryphon. You’re going to be fine.’_  
  
Curling one hand around me so I couldn't escape the doctor carried me, taking the stairs to the first floor. He opened a door marked security and gently placed me on a desk. A blue suited man looked up at him. “Can I help you, doctor?”  
  
“Found this little fellow sniffing around up on the third floor.”  
  
The guard intercepted my attempt to get off the desk, placing me back down in the middle. “No collar. I can hold her for a little while, but then it’ll probably have to go to the pound,” he said.  
  
“No need for that." The doctor shook his head. "It's a kitten. I’ll let the staff know, someone will take her.”  
  
The doctor left and the security guard pulled out a string and played with me for a little while before I made a big show of yawning and curled up on the corner of his desk. Finally he left me alone, going out into the hospital to do a tour or chat with the nurses or something. He’d shut the door but that wasn’t a problem. This room had windows that could open and shut.  
  
I changed into Spider-Monkey and climbed out into the bushes. I definitely needed a stealth form. Maybe start with a chameleon and then-  
  
“Gryphon, is that you?” I turned, mentally cursing. Glory Girl. “Of course it’s you. Why are you here, is there someone you know here?” I quickly shook my head. “Public relations then?” Who was I to say no to a freely given alibi? I nodded.  
  
“Wanna go in with me? I usually hang out in the children’s ward while I’m waiting for Panacea to finish. The kids love me there. Today it’s Mark’s turn to choose the game and he usually does card games. Don’t worry I won’t let him choose Uno or Go Fish, that would be a little unfair to you. Now Rei you have to watch out for, she likes to cheat and she’s pretty good at it. But she also expects you to cheat right back so it isn’t like she’s really cheating so much as she has a very liberal interpretation of the rules. Bohai almost always wins. Don’t make any deals with him even if they sound good.” She continued talking without pause as she dragged me back into the hospital.  
  
The nurses stopped us, but a quick explanation that I was hypoallergenic and any fur or dander would disappear the next time I transformed satisfied them enough to boost the case up to an administrator who gave me access.  
  
“Everyone, this is Gryphon. Gryphon this Rei, Mark, Bohai, Jeff, Alice, and I don’t know who you are.”  
  
“Tiff,” squeaked a blonde girl in a wheelchair.  
  
“Well, nice to meet you Tiff. I’m Vicky.” Glory Girl bent over and shook Tiff’s hand.  
  
The other children circled me like curious puppies. “Are you a hero?” I nodded. “Like Vicky?” I nodded again. “What can you do? Can you fly? Or lift cars? Or shoot lasers from your eyes?” I held up my hands to stop the deluge.  
  
Faster to demonstrate. I Changed. Working on Cerberus I had first concentrated on turning into a a rottweiler. I never perfected the form, it didn’t look like a purebred, but it was recognizable as a dog.  
  
“Oh, wow.” Rei jumped on me, squeezing me in a childish attempt to cuddle. I held still, sending a beseeching stare at Glory Girl. She seemed to notice. Or at least she pulled her off of me.  
  
“So who wants to play a game?”  
  
“Slapjack!” cheered Mark.  
  
“Uh-uh.” Glory Girl shook her head. “Told you last time that I can’t play that.”  
  
“Fine,” he grumbled, “then let’s play Clue.”  
  
I made do with two score sheets. One to mark down and one to communicate my guesses. Glory Girl won the first game and Jeff won the second. In the middle of the third game Panacea’s shift ended and she came to pick up her sister.  
  
I called it a day.  
  
Third time's the charm. Finally found Loud Mouth Bertha on Wednesday. Wouldn't have found her except she was loud. Yelling at customers was not very covert. I followed her until she went home, and called it a day. I'd have to pick it up again on Friday.  
  
The message said I’d meet the Protectorate I’d be patrolling with outside of PRT headquarters. It was kind of a shame because I’d been hoping to see the Rig up close. I circled the parking lot five minutes early looking for any masked do-gooders.  
  
Armsmaster stood by the front doors, fortunately a handrail ran up the middle of the stairs leading to the door. I glided down until I could grab it, perching on it, and looking towards Armsmaster.  
  
“Gryphon?” he asked looking down at me.  
  
“Yuh-ess,” I answered.  
  
He frowned. “I thought you couldn’t speak.”  
  
“Lee-arr-nin,” I managed.  
  
“Good. We're going to be inspecting the junk yards today. How do you want to handle travel, would you prefer to fly or take my bike?”  
  
I responded by changing into Spider-Monkey. I could fly any day but riding a tinkertech motorcycle, that was an opportunity. I clambered onto the seat behind Armsmaster, my top hands gripping his armor and my bottom the seat cushion.  
  
Armsmaster lifted out a child sized helmet for me to wear. I objected but he pointed out the mic and headphones built into the helmet.  
  
It was somewhat anti-climatic. Armsmaster followed all the rules of the road and didn’t even show off his bike’s acceleration. I might as well have been on any old bike. Not that I had been on a motorbike before, so it was still novel.  
  
“Tinkers have more weak points than other capes," I heard through my helmet's speakers. "You can’t attack someone in their civilian wear or at their home. But a Tinker’s supply lines and their workshop are considered an extension of their cape persona. They’re fair game.  
  
“That’s the PRT’s biggest selling point to Tinkers. A safe workshop and a secure source of materials. Other Tinkers, even heroic ones, usually have to steal large amounts of supplies and set up their workshops in less than secure areas.”  
  
"Oh," I replied. Short and monosyllabic, but from what I knew of Armsmaster he probably appreciated that.  
  
The first yard, Sam’s Spare Parts, was in the south-east portion of town. As far away from the docks as possible while still being nominally part of Brockton Bay.  
  
Armsmaster gestured towards the fence at a beware of dogs sign. “This is a good yard. It’s guarded by dogs and inventory is done on paper as recommended by the PRT. Still vulnerable of course, but any theft is much more likely to be noticed. That and its distance from the docks makes this a low risk yard.”  
  
“Armsmaster," a large black man in faded coveralls called over, "how are you doing today?”  
  
“Hello, Sam. This is Gryphon." I waved. "Had any problems recently?”  
  
“No, can’t say that I have. Couple of kids, but that’s normal. Cold today." He jerked his thumb back towards his office. "You two want to come in for some coffee?”  
  
“Not enough time today. Perhaps next time.”  
  
“Right, right. I’ll keep a pot warm for you.”  
  
We walked around the fence, Armsmaster waving a wand over it. Some sort of doodad designed to detect replacements or repairs.  
  
“I’m just checking if Sam’s security has been compromised," he explained. "A check on the perimeter and a check of his recording gear and we’ll be done here.”  
  
As we traveled to the second yard he pointed to seemingly random buildings. “That warehouse would be a terrible hideout for a Tinker. With the door open someone on the street could see directly inside.”  
  
A block later: “This one is too close to active businesses. People would notice and complain of any loud noises or foul odors.”  
  
The second yard was similar to the first. But Armsmaster pointed out the lack of dogs. We talked to the owners and checked their fence and surveillance system, both of which came up clean.  
  
The third yard, Brockton Automotive Salvage, we just drove by. “Protectorate security inspections are optional. The owner declined.”  
  
He stopped the bike across the street. “See how this yard doesn’t have dogs? Just a few security cameras? And their inventory system is computerized. Any tinker could break into this place with ease, take what they want, and erase any evidence. A yard like this might have such poor security for plausible deniability. I am not, of course, saying that this yard does such a thing. There is no evidence that they do.”  
  
I bobbed my head. Not sure what to make of it, was he telling me to go after Squealer and Trainwreck? Or had he already scheduled this for Thursday and just decided to drag me along? I’d expected something boring, like walking around a mall with Miss Militia while she talked about all the wonderful benefits the Protectorate offered.  
  
Not that I was complaining, this was better and I was learning something. Even if I had to spend the day with Armsmaster.  
  
“Right. Well, this was more or less a typical day for me. It’s this or managing the Protectorate or working on my equipment. I was told that I should take you to dinner.”  
  
“Fi-uhn,” I replied. Simpler to choke down a few bites than explain all over again that my taste and smell were messed up.  
  
We stopped at a ramen stand next to the boardwalk. I just copied his order and requested a spoon, Armsmaster might be able to eat with chopsticks but that mystic art was beyond my humble abilities.  
  
I tired a bite and decided it was too salty. Not sure if that was the ramen or my taste buds. I picked at until Armsmaster finished and then pushed my bowl over to him. He accepted.  
  
“Gryphon," he said after he finished, "the Protectorate does a lot more good in the long run than you think. Containing Nilbog, fighting Endbringers, those are things that only an organization could handle. Sometimes, on the local level or over short periods of time, it doesn’t look like we’re doing much. But if you sit back and look at the big picture, we’re needed.”  
  
Armsmaster was definitely giving me mixed messages. ‘The Protectorate is the best thing since sliced bread, and, oh hey, as an independent hero how about you hunt down Squealer and Trainwreck?’  
  
“Guh-ood,” I said, not knowing what to say.  
  
“I understand that you don’t want to join right now. Fine. But the door will be open for you and I hope that you reconsider.”

x x x

  
**♦Topic: Gryphon Makes a Movie  
In: Boards ► Heroes ► Independent**  
  
 **Gryphon** (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)  
Posted on February 17, 2011:  
  
Did not expect that much support. Not that I’m not grateful (I am, believe me, I am. All 100 slots for additional videos filled up!) but I’m going have to lay some ground rules on what I can and will transform into:  
  
1\. No nudity - goes without saying and directly leads into  
  
2\. No human parts - sorry, power limitation, unless you want something out of the uncanny valley.  
  
3\. Creature must be able to exist - could a mad scientist create this? Then I can probably do it. Animated skeletons are a no-go.  
  
4\. Size limitations - I can’t do twenty-foot dragons or tardigrades. Power limitation.  
  
5\. No monster capes - I will not impersonate anybody living or dead.  
  
If your choice violated any of those rules you should receive an e-mail in the next few days and you can choose something new. If you want a refund I will be happy to provide it.  
  
On duplicate requests: if you requested a form someone already requested then you should also receive an e-mail in the next few days and you may request a new form. There were a large number of requests for dragons, but the details differed wildly between requests so I’m not going to count those as duplicates. However I promise that I will do a dragon, so if you want to request something new feel free to do so.  
  
I’ll try to get videos out weekly. The order will be determined by random number generator.  
-Gryphon

x x x

  
Considering the amount of time it took me to perfect a new form’s cosmetics it would take two years to complete all those videos. Maybe I’d get faster with time.  
  
Really should have put in a higher price. Oh well, I’d still get the ad revenue from YouTube.


	4. Chapter 4

Free 1.4  
  
Brockton Automotive Salvage didn't have any buildings near the entrance so I crouched under some trees in sub-zero temperature, keeping one eye on my phone and the other on the scrap yard. Every hour or so I dissolved and rebuilt Spider-Monkey to fight off the cold. Even if I couldn’t feel the cold it still affected me.  
  
It was surprising how different a stakeout was than tailing someone. While tailing there was something to focus on, and the knowledge that, eventually, they’d lead me to what I wanted. But here I didn't even know if I was wasting my time. How often did the Merchants come to this yard? Daily? Weekly? Monthly?  
  
I ground my teeth together. Patience.  
  
At least I had my phone. The internet was a great source on possible stealth forms. Turns out that the chameleon’s reputation was overstated. Octopuses—octopi? Google agreed with either—were amazing. While chameleons only had a limited color palette and the change related to their emotions, octopi employed active camouflage and even changed the texture of their skin.  
  
Details on how they did it were scarcer on the ground. I could probably get Leet to design it, but, well, the point of a secret stealth form was for it to be secret.  
  
I was trying to look up the relevant textbooks and research papers when my phone died. Less than two hours on a full charge. Lithium batteries didn't handle cold well. I made a mental note to bring hand warmers next time.  
  
With the phone gone so was my method of timekeeping.  
  
I switched to practicing. I couldn't work on the gelatinous cube because of its blindness. Which was a shame as I had a few ideas to try out. So I worked on Griffin.  
  
Trying to fix Griffin's musculature was a headache and a half. Even with the smaller size I still had to install extra muscles in a manner that didn't interfere with the front paws movement. But adding the wing muscles made the form barrel chested and ungainly.  
  
Removing the digestive system I lengthened the lungs and shrunk the ribcage, making room for more muscles. Now it was difficult to breathe. Swapped the bidirectional lungs for unidirectional. Better.  
  
I still couldn't fly, but I could flap my wings and even do a controlled glide. Should almost be morning now. I Changed to Sauron and drifted over to the nearest bank. 12:27.  
  
This was going to be a long night.  
  
Staying awake became more and more difficult. I had to keep interrupting practice to fly and clear my head. The bank’s clock seemed to keep slowing down. Every time I saw it it changed less than the last.  
  
Finally, at 6:00, I called it a night.  
  
I did the morning sweep over my territory, then returned to base. My head hurt and all I wanted was sleep, glorious sleep. Tucking my head under a wing I drifted away.  
  
Woke up in the afternoon. Mind felt fuzzy, unfocused. Loud Mouth Bertha had already left her apartment. I did a quick sweep of where I’d seen her last, but couldn’t find her.  
  
I could try to find another dealer. Or I could call today a wash.  
  
I called it a wash. Landed on a roof and Changed to Ophillopholant. I lay down, soaking in the sun, the city’s white noise rocking me to sleep.  
  
I woke three hours later, refreshed.  
  
With rest came enlightenment: I was doing this all wrong. If Squealer or Trainwreck were buying from the yard then they might not come in at night. I'd have to run 24-hour surveillance on the yard and still might miss them because of Squealer's damn cloaking systems.  
  
No wonder Armsmaster told me.  
  
Unsure of what to do, I decided to watch the yard from 9:00 to 1:00 for now. I could spend that time practicing at least.  
  
I could buy surveillance gear, but trying to use tech to spy on Tinkers seemed like a bad idea. Or was I overestimating them?  
  
Another, shorter night spent watching the yard gave me nothing but another dead battery.  
  
I followed Loud Mouth Bertha and continued trying to puzzle it out. The supply lines and the workshop. If it was beyond my abilities to find one, I could search for the other. Oh, and hey, my wall map could finally have a legitimate use as I listed and eliminated all the warehouses in the docks.  
  
My noon phone check showed a message from the PRT. They invited me to a monthly S-class threat briefing. Interesting. I sent an RSVP back and flew back to Loud Mouth Bertha’s restaurant of choice: Pizza Hut.  
  
I like pizza as much as anyone, but everyday? That could not be healthy. I was almost doing her a public service, following her around like this. When she keeled over I’d be there to call the ambulance.  
  
Gunfire interrupted my musings. A street over an old beige sedan had slowed down and a man half hung out of the window, shooting at a group of Merchants on a street corner.  
  
The Merchants hit the deck, and thankfully the shooter missed, bullets impacting the wall behind the Merchants.  
  
The car pulled away, tires screeching, the gunman still hanging out the window. Bastards. I couldn’t stop a moving car, at least not without endangering pedestrians.  
  
I followed, keeping a careful watch on the car to make sure they couldn’t get rid of the gun. A block later they slowed down to the legal speed limit.  
  
They continued heading out of Merchant territory, making their way back to ABB turf. I couldn’t go back to get my cell phone so I’d either have to use one of the punk’s cellphones or carry them to the authorities.  
  
Of course the PRT wasn’t really set up for this sort of rapid retrieval. They’d send a van but that would take at least fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes where I would be in ABB territory standing over ABB gang members.  
  
The PRT could pass it on to the BBPD. I’d lose the bounty. Considering the fire arm used, probably another one in the car, I’d rake in maybe a hundred if the PRT took this. But the BBPD did _not_ get along with the PRT. So even if I was willing to lose the bounty there’d probably be no help from that direction.  
  
Leaving the option of carrying them to the PRT. Through ABB territory with a pissed off dragon and suicide bomber. Also not viable.  
  
No. They messed with people on _my_ turf. They might have been Merchant lowlifes, but they were _my_ Merchant lowlifes. These thugs were not getting away with this.  
  
When they stopped at a stoplight I dove for the hood of the car, Changing on the way down. As much as I wanted to do Cube the lack of communication and fingers forced me to stick with Spider-Monkey. Not the cute little version, but version 1.0. Bigger, meaner, nastier.  
  
I hit the car with all six points of contact. The car’s front bumper hit the pavement with a screech, the rear jumped up six inches. The thugs were already screaming. Good. The driver was hitting the gas pedal. Not so good.  
  
Before he could accelerate I dropped down, grasping under the tire well, and then threw myself backwards. Car versus four hundred angry simian pounds: the car tipped over on its side.  
  
That hurt. Even with the dulled pain response that really hurt. I looked down at my feet, the soles were a bloody mess from being dragged along the road.  
  
With another push the car rolled onto its roof. Crouching down I 'smiled' at the occupants. “Phu-one, puh-lease?”  
  
They were upside down held in place by seat belts. Good, safety matters. The shooter twisted around trying face me, gun outstretched.  
  
I punched the door moving the entire car several inches and putting a sizable dent in the door. “Bad. Phu-one.”  
  
“Right, here. Just take it.” The shooter dropped the gun and reached into his pants pulling out a smartphone.  
  
“Guh-ood. Stay.” I reached in and pulled out the gun and phone. Just like Laserdream taught me, I checked the safety, ejected the clip, and pulled back the slide ejecting a bullet. The gun made safe, I set it aside.  
  
Now for the hard part.  
  
“PRT hotline. This is Judy. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?”  
  
“Gryphon—” smooth as silk, I’d practiced my own name endlessly “—here. Ah-rest. Duh-rive by.” I looked up at the street signs. Oh, that was just unfair. “At Al-gu-on— no, I whuh-ill spuh-ell it.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary. I can pull the location of your phone. You are at Algonquin Boulevard and Pasadena Street, correct?”  
  
“Yes.” They could do that? I had no idea that they could do that. Where had I called the PRT from? Had I called them from my base? I couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter. Nothing I couldn’t replace if it was raided. Except for my phone... which they used to track me.  
  
“There will be a van there shortly, Gryphon. If you could stay on the line until it arrives.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
I stood next to the overturned car, patiently waiting. I’d pushed it over to the side, enjoying the driver moaning about his paint job.  
  
Keeping watch for capes coming from the roofs I didn’t even notice the police cruiser until it stopped perpendicular to me.  
  
The cop dove out of the door and drew his gun. Keeping the cruiser between us, he pointed the gun at me. “Freeze. Place your hands behind your head and get onto the ground.”  
  
Keeping the phone next to my ear I slowly raised my other three arms. “Hero. Gryphon. On phu-one with PRT.”  
  
He didn’t take his gun off me. Letting go with one hand he reached blindly into the car and picked up the radio. “You just stay like that. Dispatch, Unit One Seven. Have an ape here claiming to be a hero: Gryphon. Can you get confirmation from the PRT?”  
  
“Don’t worry, Gryphon,” Judy said on my phone. “We’re contacting the BBPD now.”  
  
We waited like that. My hands behind my head, him holding me at gunpoint.  
  
“Is a hero, copy,” He finally stated. Holstering his weapon he walked over. “Sorry about that. It’s just with the, well all of the,” he gestured at the overturned car and my monstrous form.  
  
“Fuh-ine.” I pointed at the car and the gun. “Duh-rive by. Thuh-ree blocks.”  
  
“I can take them from you, if you want,” he offered.  
  
I’d miss out on the bounty, but it probably wasn’t enough to snub the BBPD. “Jodie, that fuh-ine with you?”  
  
“That would be fine, Gryphon. Calling the van back now. Have a pleasant day.”  
  
“You too,” I said and hung up. “They are yours,” I told the cop.  
  
“Great, can you, you know?” He formed his hands over an invisible ball and rotated it.  
  
I nodded and looked down. My feet were too bloody to get good traction. I dissolved and reformed again as Spider-Monkey, I should really rename this variant. Squatting I started rocking the car back and forth and then with a heave flipped it over.  
  
The thugs seemed to be impressed. Or scared shitless. Not literally, or at least I didn’t smell anything.  
  
I loomed while the officer searched them and put them in the backseat.  
  
“We’re going to need a statement from you.”  
  
“PRT has phu-one num-buh-er.”  
  
“Right, we’ll just schedule a time then.”  
  
Deed finished I lifted off. I’d lost Loud Mouth Bertha in the hullabaloo. Another day wasted.  
  
I already spent yesterday dicking around. Today there was stuff I needed to do: recharge my batteries, set up to film my EntLift videos, and work out that horror series with Über and Leet.  
  
Fortunately Über and Leet had nothing scheduled for the afternoon and agreed to meet up at their warehouse. I landed and Changed into Spider-Monkey.  
  
Leet looked up from a giant robot he was building. Ornamental unfortunately, he didn’t have the materials to make it combat capable. “Hey Gryphon.”  
  
“Hey.” I waved.  
  
“Got the sarinx working?” Über asked from behind me.  
  
I nearly jumped out of my skin. How did he do that? “Yes. Wuh-ark-ing on it.”  
  
“Right. How flexible is it? If I gave you a sound could you replicate it?”  
  
“Not yet.” I waved at the warehouse. “Want to rent studio.”  
  
“For that EntLift of yours?” Über asked.  
  
I nodded.  
  
“No need to rent. We’d be happy to loan you anything you need,” he said.  
  
I shook my head. “No. No chah-rah-ty.”  
  
“Okay. Fine,” he sighed. “We can rent you some space and if you’re interested we have some old equipment we could sell you.”  
  
Leet rappelled down the side of his robot. Giving it an affectionate pat he walked over. “Got a list made up here for the series. Already removed the stuff you said you couldn’t do.” He handed me a small stack of paper and we started to go through it creature by creature.  
  
I wasn't a big film buff and I never really played video games, so I’d never heard of half these monsters. After I admitted my ignorance Leet pulled out his laptop and we spent the afternoon looking at movie monsters.  
  
I didn't get what the big deal was about Leet’s favorite monster. Some black aliens with dick shaped heads. It was obviously a guy in a rubber suit crabwalking. I voiced my opinion and that set Leet off on a long spiel about the atmosphere of the film and how I was a philistine. Not my fault I only saw a thirty second clip of a guy crabwalking.  
  
The later films imported from Aleph had better aliens at least. Alien: Resurrection having the best clips. Another opinion I shouldn't have told Leet.  
  
The entire list was odd. A gorilla in a space helmet that was actually a robot, multiple types of zombies, a monster dog that was half mouth, monster bugs, demons, he listed over three hundred movie and game monsters.  
  
I marked the ones on the list I was already contracted for from my EntLift—only six, most of the donators wanted cute or beautiful—and the ones I couldn't do or wouldn't do. As awesome as Godzilla might be, he was too similar to Endbringers for me to be comfortable with.  
  
I also wasn’t sure whether it counted as nudity if there was no skin. I ended up vetoing that one anyway. Not sure how child porn laws related to me, but there was no point in taking any chances.  
  
The dynamic duo liked Griffin and I scheduled a studio time for Wednesday before saying good-bye.  
  
Five o’clock. Time enough to take a short nap before going back to the scrapyard. Huh, message from Crystal. Panacea wanted to see me. We arranged a meeting on top of the hospital. It was next to a nice park with some good trees. I could take a nap there before going to the stakeout.  
  
Laserdream, Glory Girl, and Panacea waited for me on the roof. I circled and alighted on the railing lining the roof, raising a wing in greeting I hopped from foot to foot. I wanted my nap, darn it.  
  
“I just need to talk with Gryphon for a moment.” Panacea walked over to me, when Glory Girl followed she added, “Alone.”  
  
She checked over her shoulder to see if they were watching and looked back at me. “Taylor.”  
  
My mind blanked, my body froze.  
  
“I thought so. How could-”  
  
I ran, let go of the railing and fell, recovering halfway down into a dive. I was never going back. Never going back. What could I do? Had to escape. Run. Go away. I couldn’t leave. Get away. This was my home.  
  
I flapped hard, climbing. It was dark now. Even if New Wave tried to follow they wouldn’t be able to see me.  
  
Had to escape. Stop. Think. Think. Calm down.  
  
Maybe I’m over reacting. Phone. Had to check my phone. Talk with her. Went back to my phone.  
  
Messages:  
  
Crystal - Are you alright? Why'd you leave?  
  
Panacea- Are you there? We need to talk.  
  
Panacea - Talk to me or I’m telling your family.  
  
I turned the phone off. I wouldn’t be forced back. I was never going back. I needed my body. They couldn’t force me back without that.  
  
And then what? A place for it to stay. Cheap hotel. I had cash. I could always get more.  
  
Had to get my body.  
  
I dissolved. Beep. I counted. Beep. On the tenth beep I opened my eyes. Panacea sat looking at me. Shit!  
  
I quickly shut my eyes.  
  
“Saw that. Can we talk now?”  
  
I could make Spider-Monkey, grab my body and be out of there, but could I beat Panacea setting off the alarm? And she was within touching range. Glory Girl had given me the whole spiel on how awesome Panacea’s powers were, if she touched me then, to quote Über, ‘Game over, man, game over.’  
  
“Sure,” I rasped. My throat hurt. I lifted my hand—difficult, so weak—to my face there was a tube running into my nose. Uncomfortable, but surprisingly not painful.  
  
“What the hell, Taylor-”  
  
“Gryphon,” I choked out.  
  
“This is what? Some lame attempt to run away from home? To have all of your needs taken care of while you’re off playing hero? What the hell are you thinking?”  
  
“None of your business.”  
  
“I disagree. I’m bound by patient confidentiality and I can’t unmask you to the other doctors, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell your guardian.”  
  
“Just leaving.” I lifted my hand to my mouth, biting on the heart monitor’s clip.  
  
Panacea jabbed the machine before it could start squealing. “Like hell you are. You’re going to lay right there and explain.” She stood, glaring down at me.  
  
Forming an enlarged Spider-Monkey I grabbed-  
  
I woke up with Panacea touching my body’s face. I tried to move, but she’d paralyzed Spider-Monkey.  
  
“Get rid of that before someone sees,” she ordered.  
  
I obeyed and dissolved Spider-Monkey, opened my eyes to see her looking down at me. Trapped. The room was too small, hard to breathe, shallow breaths. ‘ _I can do this. Keep breathing. The door is right there, the windows there. Breathe, Gryphon.’_  
  
I felt a rush of calmness, my body dropped away and I floated on the sheets. I looked up at Panacea. “What?”  
  
“I tranqed you," she explained. "Now then, Gryphon, why?”  
  
“I can’t go back. I just… I can’t.”  
  
She took the remains of my arm in her hands. “I can heal you, you know that.”  
  
“That’s… that’s not it. I’m worthless. They don’t want me. I should vanish, disappear. I did.” I yawned. The pillow was so soft and warm. I hadn’t slept in a bed for so long.  
  
“Are you worried about the people who did this?” Panacea asked. “We can arrest them, or, or move you away from them.”  
  
“The hallway, it was full. Not a single person cared enough to get me out. To get help. Nothing. Paper, the paper, it said, ‘no witnesses.’ Worthless, not worth helping.”  
  
“Yes, you are. You’re Gryphon, you can’t let them win.”  
  
“They already won.” I yawned. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. “I’m not going back.”  
  
“What about friends or family? Think about what you’re doing to them.”  
  
“No friends. Dad’s better off without me.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure he disagrees. This… goddammit, I can’t _not_ tell your father.”  
  
"No. No. You can't tell him. Can't tell anyone." I’d made plans before. Researched, made contingencies, almost all of which were useless now, but… “I turn sixteen in June. Please, I can drop out then. Just give me until then, please,” I begged.  
  
She worried her lip. She was thinking about it. “April. You’ll have missed too much school to catch back up, and you’ll still have to go through physical therapy. You won’t have to go back. After that, if you want, I’ll heal you.”  
  
That… was probably the best deal I was going to get. “Agreed.” She turned to go. “Wait,” I mumbled. “How’d you find me?”  
  
“I did a checkup of long term patients. A coma girl who’s actually awake with a _corona gemma_ ,” seeing my confusion she added, “the part of the brain that controls powers—arrives here the same day that Gryphon appeared, wasn’t that hard to figure out.”  
  
Bad luck and incomplete information, but I should still be safe here, unless Panacea’s nightly visit alerted someone.  
  
“No one—” I yawned “—think it odd that you’re still here?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Your cover is fine. I come here at night occasionally. No one will think anything of it.”  
  
“Last question, can you wake me back up?”  
  
“Stimulants and depressants don’t mix and I don’t do brains. Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry.  
  
“Fine. Just carry me out then.” I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I Changed, forming Kitten on top of the bed, and sprawled there.  
  
I felt Panacea pick up my limp form and give me a brief hug. “Sorry, instinct. You would not believe how hard it is for me not to baby talk right now.”  
  
Comfortable and warm I drifted away.


	5. Chapter 5

Free 1.5

I woke up wrapped in fabric, loose knit yarn, a sweater. I fought my way free, each movement causing a jingle. Finally free I twisted around looking for the source of the sound. Bells were taped to my tail.

This had to be Panacea’s bedroom. It was cluttered, she was using the floor as a closet, and tastefully decorated, what little I could see of it anyway. I could make out a giant lump under the blankets. If she was still asleep I could—

“Gryphon,” she mumbled, propping herself up. “You’re up. We need to talk.”

“Patrol. Talk later.”

“It’s Sunday.”

Oh… crap. “Still patrol,” I lied.

“Fine. When do you want to talk?”

‘Never,’ I thought. “Seven,” I said.

“That works. Tay— Gryphon, your body is fragile right now and can’t be moved without medical supervision, so please don’t get any stupid ideas.”

I didn’t answer. Changing to Sauron removed the bells; I waved a wing toward the window. She slipped out of her bed and opened it for me. I didn’t stick around to say “thanks.”

Fucking Panacea, self righteous bitch.

I made a life, a good life; I’m helping people; I’m making a living. She didn’t have the right to tell me what I could and could not do.

I should, I should—I should leave. Get away.

No. Trapped. She was right about that. I couldn’t move or care for my body. There was no one to help. Everyone would take her side. The Protectorate would insist that I join the wards, go to school, play nice; the Guild wouldn’t help a teenager; I’d convert and join the Saints, but even they probably wouldn’t take a minor. Fuck.

Taylor was dead. I killed her. She had no right coming back.

Emancipation. No. That would hurt my dad even more. More than explaining that I’d been awake the last two months? Maybe. Probably.

Fucking Panacea.

Fuck this. Fuck all this shit.

I turned and headed for the Merchants’ largest high traffic operation. The cashier would have maybe up to two hundred on him, but with no proof of intent I wouldn’t be able to collect. I targeted the pharmacist instead.

I dove, striking the ground with enough force to break my legs. Not waiting for the pain to kick in I Changed. Cerberus charged the Merchant. A headbutt threw him against a wall. I bent down, muzzle next to his face and roared.

The other Merchants scattered. Fine. I’d get them all. Every time they ran an operation I’d target their pharmacist. Let’s see how long they can stay in fucking business when they lose a man every time they try to peddle.

The pharmacist was groggy. Possible concussion or perhaps just stunned. It didn’t matter. I felt his pants for a phone—the front right pocket—and ripped it open. The phone fell face down on the pavement. Turning it over without hands was tricky, but doable. Scratching the phone’s screen when I dialed the PRT hotline was entirely unavoidable.

“PRT hotline. This is Paul. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?”

“Gryphon. Have drug dealer.”

We did the song and dance. He promised a van. I promised to wait and stay on the line.

Trainwreck and Mush promised to do various unsavory things to me.

Arresting someone is a game. Neither side wants to escalate so whichever side can display force first wins. Since the Merchant reinforcements arrived first I was supposed to call off the van and skedaddle. Fuck that.

I heard the pair before I saw them (doggie ears). Mush—in the tradition of all under performing employees—was complaining about doing his job. Trainwreck didn’t reply, but he still made more noise—slight chuffs of escaping steam, a low crash every time he took a step, the screech of metal on metal.

As they rounded the corner I let loose my flame. Trainwreck didn’t even seem to notice, but Mush lit up like a human torch. Interesting thing about garbage: it burns. Oh, not all of it. The cans, nails, various metal odds and ends won’t—of course—but intermixed are burger wrappers, kleenex, receipts, plastic bags, etc.

He ran in a circle screaming bloody murder. Stunned, I just stood watching, giving Trainwreck enough time to swing. Giant dogs are heavy. But they are still blood and bone. Water, a bit of carbon, a bit of nitrogen. Trainwreck was several tons of steel. I felt the fist pass through my left head, the force lifting me up and throwing against the wall.

I felt cold. I spared a glance at my left head, Trainwreck had caved it in. At the rate I was losing blood I had minutes? Seconds?

I clambered back to my feet, charged, leaped, and—at the apex—Changed. The world vanished for a moment; I pushed, hard as I could, willing for the Change to happen faster.

The delay gave Trainwreck enough time to wind up another punch. Big mistake. The punch pushed through into the gelatinous cube, the force behind the punch forcing me back. It didn’t matter; I still had his hand. I scrunched forward, swallowing more.

For a brain dead junkie Trainwreck wasn’t a complete idiot. He didn’t hit me with his other hand, or yank straight back pulling me towards himself. Instead he planted his feet and pulled at a slight angle, swinging me in a circle. My butt left the ground, but I held on. I inched up his arm—his increasingly hot arm.

He must have been sending his steam into the arm in an attempt to burn me off. Would probably work too, if I felt pain. I moved on, squeezing the dead, burnt layers onto his armor as insulation.

Really wished I could hear what he was saying. The phone was still on. It would look bad if he surrendered right now and I kept eating—no, restraining him.

Trainwreck gave up on trying to throw me away; he switched to hitting me against the side of the building to no effect. Before I could reach his shoulder he stopped and dragged me over to two parked cars, wedged himself between them, using the cars as a counter force to his tugging. Clever.

Not clever enough.

I covered the cars as well and continued up his arm. On reaching his shoulder I wondered why he didn’t eject from the suit. Was there no easy way to exit the suit? Or was it part of a life support system? Or did he not just think about it? Maybe it was actually remote controlled… I’d be screwed if that were the case.

Still, my course was set. I continued on until I covered the head and started to count. ‘One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.’ Did he have an internal air supply? Or was there air intakes in other parts of his suit? ‘Ten Mississippi. Eleven Mississippi.’ I continued to swallow the suit.

The suit continued to cook me. I idly wondered what it smelt like. ‘Forty-seven Mississippi.’ The back of the suit let out an explosion of forming a giant bubble in the cube. It burst a hole in my outer membrane. I sealed it but Trainwreck had noticed. He pushed more steam out, expanding the bubble.

The pressure was too great. I opened a path out, then shut it, opened and shut. The bubble slowly expanded despite my efforts. He couldn’t have too much steam, right? He has to carry around his water so maybe ten gallons. Was that a good number? How much steam did ten gallons make? ‘Did this in chemistry. One mole of an ideal gas makes 22.4 liters.’ I recited. ‘One mole of water is 18 grams. One gram of water is one milliliter. So… 1.8 liters is 100 moles and holy shit, that is a lot of steam!’

The steam was still blasting out of Trainwreck’s back, but he wasn’t moving. ‘Shit. What number was I on? How long has it been? Two minutes? Three?’ I couldn’t risk killing him. I Changed back to Cerberus. Trainwreck remained standing. Shit.

I pounced driving my paws into his chest. He fell backwards, unresponsive; his joints were locked.

I spun in a circle looking for Mush.

“Gryphon?” Miss Militia stood next to an unconscious figure. Mush, I guessed. Aegis hovered overhead carrying Vista.

I nodded my right head towards Miss Militia. “Hello.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Don’t know—” I jerked my head towards Trainwreck.

“We’ll take a look at him back at base. Mush is going to count as a Protectorate capture, if that’s alright with you.”

I nodded.

Aegis set Vista down and grabbed hold of Trainwreck’s armor; Vista clambered onto his back. Lifting off they seemed to distort, as if seen through a fun house mirror, and then vanished. So that’s how they had arrived so quickly.

“Armsmaster is back at the base,” Miss Militia explained. “He’ll be able to deal with Trainwreck’s suit so we can treat him.”

That was a relief. I might have—maybe, possibly—gone slightly overboard in my takedown. A man’s death wasn’t worth whatever his bounty was—at least two thousand (the bare minimum), but it would be months before I saw a payout.

“Good job here, Gryphon,” Miss Militia interrupted my chain of thought, “but this doesn’t seem like you.”

I ignored the implied question.

“Escalating the situation like this... if Vista and Aegis weren’t both on duty Mush here”—she tapped him with her foot—“could have been killed.”

“Mistake. Did not thuh-ink he would buh-urn.”

“And Trainwreck?”

“Struh-ong. Tried to kill me. Only thuh-ing I could thuh-ink of.”

“Going out alone like this is dangerous, Gryphon. We’re here if you ever change your mind.”

I nodded.

The PRT van finally arrived. They sprayed the foam encasing Mush with a chemical that liquidated it. Lifting Mush into the back they then refoamed him. I followed the van back to their base, but either Skidmark and Squealer hadn’t heard about the capture, or they considered it a lost cause.

My phone’s batteries had died in the night. Crystal had sent over a dozen messages asking if I was alright. I texted back a non-answer.

She didn’t take it well. Insisted on meeting.

Capes who can fly tend to meet on rooftops. Not skyscrapers, too windy, a three story building was ideal. Crystal’s favorite was an old office building with an excess of statuary. Cherubs, angels, and carved ivy spotted the building.

I found her in her usual position: leaning against an archangel. I perched on its extended wing. “So what happened with you and Panacea?” she asked upon seeing me.

“Don’t wuh-ant to talk about it.”

“Tough noogies. What happened?”

“Puh-ersonal.”

“Right. Who’d you lose?” I didn’t answer. She sighed. “I’m here if you need it. Heard you took out some Merchants.”

“Yes. Doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. It couldn’t. Not really. I’d gotten lucky, and even if I hadn’t another hero would have caught them.

“Of course it matters, silly goose. With only two left The Merchants are toast, thanks to you.”

“Empire will take territory.” What good could one more hero do? Was everything I did pointless?

“Hey, hey, one step at a time. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Want to do a team-up? My classes end at noon tomorrow so the afternoon is free.”

That sounded nice. I said so.

She tried to get me to go shopping and then the movies with her like she always did. I said no like I always did. The rest of the day I flew randomly around the city.

I met Panacea outside of a coffee house. One of those chains where a single cup cost more than I’d spend on a meal. She insisted on buying me a cup and when I protested that I couldn’t enjoy it she just said, “I can fix that.”

She already knew, and it wasn’t like she could screw me over any more than she already had. “Guh-o ahead,” I consented.

She reached over and touched my upper right hand. I felt something shift around in my mouth, but I didn’t feel any different.

“Try this.” She shoved a cup of hot chocolate into my hands. Whip cream, little sprinkles, and artfully squirted syrup covered the top. There was no straw so I was guaranteed a milk mustache.

I took an experimental sip. Oh sweet nirvana was that good. I held it to my chest, limbs curling possessively around the cup.

“I’ll get you another cup,” she offered.

I accepted. We sat in the parking car, her car’s heater on low, watching people walk in and out of the coffee house. She finished first.

“How did you fuh-ind me?” I asked.

“I do rounds on long term patients occasionally. Just a quick run through, heal those I can. Came to you, and you were awake. Not entirely unexpected, sometimes a patient is misdiagnosed as being in coma when they actually have locked-in syndrome—awake and aware but unable to act.

“I triggered a couple of nerves. Followed the transmission back and found an alien brain structure taking in all your bodily inputs. Your _gemma_. Looked up your name and date of admittance. It was right before Gryphon appeared.”

“Will the doctors find out?”

“No. Not really. To them a _gemma_ is mostly theoretical. Okay, there are two structures the _corona_ _pollentia_ and the _corona_ _gemma_ ,” her tone shifted as she started lecturing. “The _corona_ _pollentia_ is probably where powers come from. Some people, have it before they even have powers. The _gemma_ connects your brain to the _pollentia_ , so everyone with superpowers has both a _gemma_ and a _pollentia_.

“The problem is is that there is no textbook _pollentia_. All of them are in different places, different shapes and sizes. A doctor is more likely to diagnose a brain tumor than a _pollentia_. And the _gemma_ is an offshoot of the _pollentia_. The only reason we know of the _gemma_ ’s existence is because of two patients, X1 and X2, who had MRIs before and after triggering.”

“Safe?” I pointed at myself.

“Unless they try brain surgery.” She held up a hand, forestalling my objection. “I can make sure that doesn’t happen. Or at least warn you.”

We sat silently for a few uncomfortable seconds. “Do you remember what happened the day you”—she waved a hand at me—”this?”

“Yes.” She waited but I didn’t expand on it. I was in the locker, and then I was free. It was the best moment in my life, and she was taking it away.

“Gryphon, you almost died. You were in the locker the entire day. The loss of circulation started causing tissue death after four hours; the blood in your limbs became toxic. I talked to the doctors, if that one teacher”—Mr Plinkley, history teacher, ex-EMT, I’d never had him unfortunately—“hadn’t known to make tourniquets you would be dead. You need to go the police.”

“What guh-ood would it do?”

“They’d be punished. Stopped,” she pointed out.

I stared at her. Of course they wouldn’t be punished. “No, thuh-ey wouldn’t.”

“This goes beyond bullying. This is assault.”

“No witnesses.”

“There’s you.”

“No. Didn’t see.”

“So you don’t know—”

“I know. Didn’t see.”

“And what if they do this to someone else? Can you allow that?”

“They won’t,” I said. I didn’t know why Emma chose me, maybe I was just that pathetic. They had never attacked anyone else.

“Are you willing to risk that.”

I shut my eyes. I was done with that life. It didn’t affect me any more. But could someone else be hurt? It wasn’t any of my concern. ‘Hero,’ I reminded myself. “What could you do if I told you?”

“I,” she bit her lip, “I’d ask Carol. She’s a lawyer so she’d know what we could do.”

“How did you find out?” I countered.

“This is ridiculous. You know, if you decided to come out sooner than April you still wouldn’t go back to school.”

“You said April.”

“Yes, but if you wanted—”

I cut in, “Don’t want.”

“But—”

“No,” I snarled.

“Alright, alright. But it’ll get worse the longer this goes on.”

She was wrong. I’d have more money, more respect, more time. This was salvageable. It had to be. I sipped my hot chocolate.

“Vicky liked your visit in the children’s ward.”

“Are we done?” I asked.

“Yeah. I guess. Just… yeah, we’re done.”

I thanked her for the hot chocolate and left. I had forty days to make a difference.


	6. Chapter 6

Free 1.6

Monday was quiet. With the impending gang war, I chose to bust Loud Mouth Bertha. She had a nice bit of cash and enough drugs to convince me that the hand off happened and I ’d missed it.

In the afternoon I met Laserdream in our usual spot on the roof. Talking and flying was hard enough between Alexandria type capes who could easily match speed and height. With the somewhat irregular path I had to follow and the interference Laserdream caused if she came too close it was damn near impossible. So we did a standard fly the flag operation: a long loop around the schools to remind everyone they were off limits to gangs.

We didn ’t hurry as we had to give everyone enough time see us, so there was plenty of time to talk. She didn’t try to pry anymore into my situation with Panacea since she thought I’d lost a loved one, and that was a relief. But she still wanted to help.

“So what do you think?” She waved an arm at a beige apartment building she’d diverted us to.

“About?” I asked.

“The apartment. It’s really affordable and the third floor room right there is open. There’s no good vantage point to see into it, and getting in and out without being noticed should be a snap.”

It was a nice building. Couldn ’t comment on the grass as it was still yellow, but the paint was in good condition, there were patio windows each opening onto a balcony, and there was a line of pine trees completely blocking any view from the window she pointed out. A good apartment for a super hero.

“You’re moving in?”

“No. I was thinking of you.” I blinked. I didn’t need an apartment, and I was saving all my money. “You can’t just keep squatting wherever you’ve been squatting. You need a place of your own, duckie. An abode. A dwelling. A home. And this place is perfect.”

“No. I’m good.”

“It’s more than just a roof over your head. It’s a place to keep your loot, read, watch TV, cook, invite friends over,” she rattled off.

“I’m good,” I insisted.

“Fine.” She reluctantly dropped the subject. “So I was thinking of getting a burrito after this. You don’t have to come, of course.”

“My taste is fixed now.”

“You can eat now? Hey, That’s great. Do you think Fugly Bob’s would let you go for the challenger as Cerberus?”

“No stomach.”

“What about the cube?”

I shook my head.  “And chew with my mouth open?”

After eating at a little food truck Crystal had us fly half the way across the city to get to, I started working on the first form from the EntList: a yellow rat that could control electricity. Not that I could control electricity. The best I could do would be … an electric eel. Huh. That could be interesting.

Since my current options were rip, tear, burn, and suffocate, I could probably use a less violent approach. A built in taser would be a nice addition.

According to Wikipedia all I ’d need would be long lines of cells, electroplaques, pushing sodium and potassium ions outside of the cell membrane to become super charged, and then I’d open the ion channels all at once to create a shock. I forgot about the original purpose (the Entlift) as I got sidetracked doing the math so I’d know about how many centimeters long would be required to get the right voltage, and how many centimeters wide for the correct amperage.

Hell, I could fit the organs into Sauron if I removed the digestive system. I ’m sure my opponents would be  _ shocked _ to discover my improvements. (Yeah, Mouse Protector I ain ’t. So glad that battle banter is optional.)

Not enough room in the little yellow rat though. I could probably get the cheeks to spark, but nothing beyond that.

The PRT broke the news about Trainwreck and Mush ’s arrest on Tuesday afternoon. The Empire did a few probes: groups of skinheads standing on corners in Merchant territory, skinheads driving through Merchant territory, and in Empire territory their own drug operations received extra guards.

The Merchants, on the other hand, seemed to vanish. All their drug operations closed and no one in their colors walked around. Even the homeless population seemed to drop.

I flew around the border waiting for violence to break out. The sun had set and I was beginning to think about turning in when the Endbringer sirens interrupted any potential violence.

Not the steady wail that said Brockton Bay was being visited, but the whomp whomp whomp that signaled death elsewhere in the world.

Churches across the city opened their doors to hold candlelight vigils. Tomorrow schools would be out, and most businesses would be closed. As a kid I celebrated the days off from school; I didn ’t understand and no one corrected me. Probably for the best, even if now it made cringe to think about.

I winged it over to the PRT headquarters leaving the whole mess behind for now. Everyone knew about the Truce (capital  ‘T’), a day of peace between all capes; the Empire wouldn’t dare to attack today.

Landing in front of the PRT, I Changed to Spider-monkey. A woman with a clipboard ran over to me.  “Gryphon. Are you volunteering—”

“Can’t,” I said.

“That’s understandable. We won’t force you—”

I tuned her out. I had tried going as far as possible soon after my trigger. My range extended a good twenty miles beyond the city limits, anything beyond that and I woke up in that room. I only came to the PRT Headquarters because Laserdream told me I was supposed to, irregardless of whether I volunteered or stayed behind.

They sent me up to the cafeteria where Dauntless, Assault, and Battery were waiting. The walls were painted a soothing blue, the little that wasn ’t covered in photos. I looked closer; all the photos were autographed pictures of heroes: all the Brockton Bay heroes of course, but also Chevalier, and Mouse Protector, and Myrrdin, and the Triumvirate, and even Hero. I physically stopped myself from squealing, not the time for that.

Instead I walked over to the other heroes and took a seat with them.  “Where and who is it?” I asked. I hadn’t wanted to get in the way downstairs.

“Australia,” grunted Dauntless. “The Simurgh.”

We sat silently. Dauntless drumming his fingers, Assault and Battery holding hands. Were they a couple? Adorable.

A few minutes later and they must have received a communication via earpiece because they stood as one. I followed and we went out to wish the volunteers luck: New Wave, all of it, went with Strider, who also transported Miss Militia, Velocity and Armsmaster. 

‘ _You know_ ,’ a small voice said, _‘if something happened to her it wouldn’t even be your fault_. ’ I wanted to slap myself. ‘ _Shut. The. Fuck. Up._ _’_

We trailed back to the cafeteria and I asked about the heroes they sent.

“Simurgh flies. If they’re not Blasters or Movers there’s no point in going,” explained Battery. “Dauntless wasn’t allowed.” I glanced at him; he looked rather pissed that he was sitting here in relative safety. His power grew over time, so it made sense to keep him out of danger now for a larger payoff later. But he obviously didn’t like it.

“Villains?” I asked. I’d heard that villains sometimes showed up for Endbringer fights, even when they were in different countries.

“It’s rare, and against the Simurgh nonexistent. Heck, most heroes don’t volunteer for the Simurgh,” said Battery. I shifted uncomfortably.

“And Armsmaster?” I didn’t remember him having any ranged weapons. But maybe he built them just for Endbringers?

“He isn’t actually going to be involved in the fighting.” Oh, that was disappointing. I’d been imagining him on his motorbike with a giant laser strapped to the back. “He’ll be running observation posts and monitoring the newest anti-Simurgh gadgets.” She shrugged. “They’ve never worked in the past, but we might get lucky.”

None of the Wards left with Strider, instead they trickled into the Headquarters over the course of an hour and a half. They huddled together at their own table, except for Shadow Stalker who stalked herself over to a shadowy corner. Crystal had warned me that if I became too violent the Protectorate would draft me like they did her, sucker.

Über and Leet called in promising support if anything cropped up, but they stayed in their own base preferring to handle their own transportation.

We waited in the cafeteria, sipped our hot chocolate and coffee, listened to the feed from Dragon, and twiddled our thumbs. If there was any danger in the city we were authorized to stamp it out with extreme prejudice. And the criminals knew that, so there was nothing to do.

“Are they always this long?” The heroes looked at me. “The fights?”

“No. The Simurgh’s are the longest,” said Battery, stirring creamer into her coffee.

“She doesn’t do as much damage,” added Assault. “Leviathan and Behemoth will leave after they’ve destroyed enough. The bitch always needs to be driven off.”

Battery nodded.  “And we can’t keep up sustained damage since we have to keep rotating people out.”

“Oh,” I said, not know what else to say.

“So you took down Mush and Trainwreck,” Assault said, dangling a different topic in front of everyone.

The others picked it up and congratulated me before it naturally changed to the impending gang war between the Empire and the Merchants. There were comparisons to past gang wars with the Teeth and Marquis, and that one time the Slaughterhouse Nine visited Brockton Bay. Compared to the bad old day this looked to be more of a scuffle. And, according to the heroes, there was a plan.

“We need to catch Skidmark and Squealer as fast as possible,” Assault explained.

“Why?” I asked. I’d planned on protecting their territory—which mostly overlapped with my territory—from the much more numerous Empire capes.

“Well, if we catch those two then the Merchants will crumble,” said Battery.

“The Empire will expand, but they’d do that anyway. We beat down the Merchants and it will stop a gang war.” Assault grimaced. “Besides, the last time the Merchants fought, they fought dirty. Gave cheap weapons to druggies and promised them money and a fix if they made it back. No, Skidmark and Squealer need to be put down fast.”

“How?”

“Are we going to catch them?” he clarified. I nodded. “Armsmaster is looking for Squealer’s workshop. The rest of us, when we’re not going to be trying to keep the peace, are guarding Mush and Trainwreck. You really did a number on them.”

I winced. He noticed, but chose not to comment.  “Yeah, anyway, Skidmark is sharp. Crazy and stupid, but also sharp. He knows that he can’t win right now, so either he’s going have to import talent or stage a jail break.”

“Import?”

“It’s doable,” said Battery. “A lot of villains work as mercenaries. Of course, the more powerful capes work either out of loyalty or on a per job basis. So he’d just get more gutter scum.”

“But,” Assault said, tapping the table. “He’s going have a hard time importing anybody if he lets Mush and Trainwreck rot.”

“Yeah, that’s true. At the very least he’d be paying premium for second-class goods,” said Battery.

“Hire for bruh-eakout?”

“Possible.” Shrugged Assault. “The possible pool is large enough that we can’t prepare for all contingencies in that case. I’m just glad the Faultline doesn’t shit where she sleeps.”

Faultline and company were a group of villains that resided in Brockton Bay. They were considered off limits to local heroes as they only operated out of state, had no deaths to their names, and fielded the strongest Shaker in the world—a girl, Labyrinth, who made Vista (who could literally bend space into a pretzel) look puny.

According to Crystal they did elaborate Ocean 11 style capers. She always sounded a touch envious when she talked about them.

We continued to talk. Dauntless was less than sociable and finally excused himself, and the Wards left one by one to get some sleep, so it was just me and Battery and Assault. They did most of the talking, Battery describing various adventures that they had, and Assault various mishaps.

I wasn ’t sure when I fell asleep myself; I woke up curled on a couch. The TV across from me was on with the volume turned down to a susurrus. The Endbringer attack was over; the Simurgh returned to orbit, Canberra in ruins.

Vista sat on the other end of the couch. Her serious expression offset by her legs not  _ quite _ touching the ground.

I stretched and yawned. This body wasn ’t intended for sleeping in. The muscles in the back knotted up terribly. I wondered if it would be rude to Change inside the PRT headquarters, then decided against it.

“Morning,” I said.

Vista looked over at me and smiled.  “Good morning, Gryphon.” She said, entirely too chipper. “Do you want any breakfast?”

“No. News?”

“Oh, yes.” Her face became serious again. “Canberra is being quarantined and there weren’t any casualties from Brockton Bay.”

‘ _Darn.’_ I did my best to ignore that thought, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it.  “Good. Anyone need anything?”

“The director wants to see you,” she said and turned back to the news.

Another sales pitch I could do without. I changed my mind and asked for breakfast.

Director Piggot was a large woman. I ’d read that the PRT was instituting mandatory physical requirements for all employees and had to wonder if that didn’t apply to upper management. Seemed hypocritical.

Or maybe she was ill. Possibly something with the pituitary gland, that was supposed to cause weight gain sometimes and it was in the brain, and Panacea was well known to not do brains. I had little else to do or think about while she finished her paperwork.

“Gryphon,” she finally started, looking up from her forms. “There are two men in the holding cells that were almost killed.” She paused, waiting for the silence to become uncomfortable before continuing. “I do not appreciate that. There are rules, if you cannot follow them by yourself, then we help you. Do you understand?” I fervently nodded. “Good. You may go.”

I left. On the one hand it wasn ’t yet another sales pitch, but on the other hand I was pretty sure that was my one warning.

Resnick caught up to me before I made it out the front entrance.  “Truce is still on until midnight. Nothing proactive until then, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Be prepared. With the Protectorate and New Wave down a few members, there’s a good chance that the Empire will start pushing as soon as the Truce ends.”

“Right.”

“Armsmaster made this for you.” He held up what looked like a miniature headset. “It should fit on your bird form. If you could wear it for now and provide reconnaissance and support we’d be grateful.”

I looked at the headset and took a moment to think. The Protectorate would probably claim any and all arrests from the information I gave them, and taking it would tie me closer to them, but if there was going to be a war then I was the one who had triggered it. People would die, and if there was anything I could do to stop or minimize that …

“Fine.”

“Good. Just put your head into here and the straps will automatically adjust. If you want to give an order preface it with ‘hero phone.’ So ‘Hero phone, call PRT’ or ‘Hero phone, phone off’ to remove it.”

That sounded unbelievably lame.  “Rename?”

He chuckled.  “No, sorry. I’ll tell Armsmaster that you want that in the next generation.”

I silently sighed, then Changed and stuck my head into the headset. The straps automatically tightened, the fitting snug but not too tight. I shook my head to make sure it was on.  “Hero phone, time,” I tried.

“The time is nine thirty-two,” said a computer voice, each word enunciated separately and independently from the last.

“Right, thanks,” I told Resnick.

“No problem. Keep in touch, Gryphon,” he said and held the door open for me.

I walked out and stretched my wings, then ran forward pumping my wings to generate the necessary force to get aloft. The day was cloudy. A continuous light gray that promised no rain nor snow nor sunlight. Not fun weather to fly in, but it could always have been worse.

“Hero phone, call Laserdream.” It made the call successfully which made me wonder what databases it connected to; Laserdream’s number was unlisted for obvious reasons. Was the phone hooked up to the PRT database? Could I call Alexandria?

The call went through to voicemail.  “Gryphon here. New phone. Gift from Armsmaster. Can talk while flying. Bye,” and I hung up: “Hero phone, hang up.” I could only hope that last part wasn’t included in the message.


End file.
